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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971269">6:43am</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>!Inspired by the fic 8:55 by kremlin from the ACOTAR fandom!, Adding angst to keep things interesting, Aelin gives NO FUCKS, Aelin is stubborn, Aelin’s middle name is bitter, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad First Impressions, F/M, Fluff, It gets worse before it gets better lol, LITERALLY IF ROWAN AND AELIN JUST COMMUNICATED EVERYTHING WOULD BE FINE, Mutual Pining, Pining, Rowan is also stubborn, Smut?Maybe?, Teacher AU, Vignettes, author loves tagging, idk yet, inspired by another fic, like so much pining, more relationships/characters will be added as the story goes on, more tags will be added, no beta we die like men, second fic and the author still has no idea what she’s doing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:34:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,561</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They ride the elevator together everyday at 6:43am. Everyday, that hate each other a little bit less.</p><p>Alternatively: a series of vignettes featuring Teacher!Aelin, Teacher!Rowan, and an elevator.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien &amp; Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Monday, August 12th, 6:43am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aelin Galathynius stepped inside the elevator, iced macchiato in hand. It was her first day teaching at Doranelle High, and she knew she would not be able to deal with a bunch of moping seniors unless she had her daily fuel. The first day of school was always the worst; all she did was introduce herself and go over the syllabus. Six. Different. Times. </p><p>She was looking down at her phone when she felt another presence in the elevator. She thought it was some student trying to sneak onto the elevator, because she was sure as hell it wasn’t another teacher. Who else in their right mind would show up to school thirty minutes early (unpaid she might add) just to make sure they were ready for the day? She was ready to scold a student, but when she looked up, she didn’t see a student. She saw another teacher. And <em> damn </em>, if he wasn’t a sight to behold. Wavy silver hair—dyed?— framed a strong, angular face with razor sharp features. He had strong cheekbones and long lashes that would make any girl swoon. Plush rosy lips paired with piercing pine-green eyes were a combination to die for. And that wasn’t even the best part—he had a wicked tattoo that stretched down from the side of his face into the collar of his burgundy dress shirt. It looked like it was a combination of symbol and words in a language Aelin assumed to be Latin. </p><p>Just because she was on a diet didn’t mean she couldn’t look at the menu.</p><p>When the elevator gave a soft beep, Aelin tore her gaze away from the man and realized that it was almost time to get off. And it was then she saw the doors of the elevator. They were polished silver metal that reflected so clearly they might as well have been a mirror, which meant… the teacher standing beside her must have seen her ogling him the whole elevator ride. Aelin looked at his face in the reflection and saw him smirking. He had <em> definitely </em> seen her ogling him the whole elevator ride. If Aelin wasn’t prideful to a fault, she might have been mortified. She gripped her coffee cup a little tighter as the elevator doors opened, and walked towards the exit quicker than she normally would have; just because she had a strong sense of pride didn't mean she wanted to be in embarrassing situations longer than necessary. It turns out, the smirking man had the same idea. They both tried to step through the elevator doors at the same time.</p><p>The exit of the elevator was not wide enough for the both of them. </p><p>Their shoulders bumped harshly against each other. Since the hulking brute of a man was so much larger than her, she took the brunt of the impact. She tumbled over her heels outside of the elevator, and when she looked down, she saw her treasured iced macchiato all over the floor. It was better that it spilled all over the floor than all over her white button down shirt; she was grateful for that small mercy.</p><p>That was, until she felt the dampness of her shirt. </p><p>Her shirt had not been spared from the incident. The coffee had soaked the whole front of her shirt; the stain large enough that no amount of Tide-To-Go would fix it. Aelin looked to the mystery man that sent her coffee, and her good mood, tumbling to the ground. She didn’t know what she was expecting, at the least an apology, maybe? </p><p>What she was not expecting was to see him laughing at her. Not a big-belly laugh, but a chuckle that reminded her of someone watching a Vine compilation for the first time. <em> Livid </em> didn’t even begin to cover what Aelin was feeling. If looks could kill, this giggling buffoon would be dead at least thirty times over. She let out a <em> humph </em> and turned on her heel, realizing she wasn’t going to get any sort of apology from this ape.</p><p>She walked into the hallway where her classroom was. Not only did her shirt have coffee all over it, her tote bag also had a small puddle of coffee at the bottom. <em> Gods have mercy. </em>She tried to think of some situation in which she would’ve deserved some bad karma, but she drew a blank. It seemed that some higher being just had it out for her today. She thought her day couldn’t get any worse.</p><p>Wrong. </p><p>She heard the jingle of keys and momentarily stopped her existential crisis to look up. Aelin saw the dickhead that made her spill her coffee (and didn’t apologize) standing at the door to the classroom right next to hers. She prayed to whatever Gods that might listen that his classroom was not the one next to hers. She would not survive a year of this suffering. When she heard the door click open and saw the buzzard step inside, she knew that she was done for. </p><p>She was contemplating just walking out of the school and never looking back, but her insufferable pride chose that moment to strike again. She fumbled with her keys and was eventually able to open the door to her classroom. Aelin walked into the adjoining bathroom to assess the damage. Her shirt was a disaster zone. There was no saving it. She tried to finagle her blazer to where it would cover most of the stain to no avail. She tossed her blazer to the floor and took off her white button up. The tank top she had on underneath was not as <em> modest </em>as she would like, but alas it was better than the massacre that was her button up. It would have to do. Aelin put the blazer back on and assessed herself. She knew the students were going to have a field day wondering why the newbie AP Literature teacher was wearing coffee with a little bit of shirt on the side. Aelin looked at herself in the mirror and groaned.</p><p>If this was some cruel foreshadowing of what the school year was going to be like, Aelin was completely and utterly fucked.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Friday, August 16th, 6:44am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Right as the elevator doors were closing, a tanned hand shot through the crack to open them back up again. It was the silver haired buzzard that had ruined any possibility she might’ve had at a good first impression. It was five days into the school year, and she still had students calling her “Miss Coffee Lady.” </p><p>Ever since <em> that </em> day, she made sure her coffee cup had a lid. She was not eager to repeat what had happened on Monday.</p><p>And what made it worse was that the perpetrator still had yet to apologize. They had spent every day riding the elevator together at the exact same time each morning. They had yet to say a single word to each other. Even though his classroom was right next door to hers, she still had yet to learn his name. She didn’t care to learn the name of a lumbering giant bastard who wouldn’t just own up to his mistake and apologize. She wasn’t asking for much. Just two words. <em> I’m sorry. </em>That’s it. It’s not like she was asking him to buy her another cup of coffee or pay the dry cleaning fee for her white button down. </p><p>Men could be so damn <em> dense </em>sometimes.</p><p>When he reached out to hold open the door, she saw the ring that was on his left hand. She felt sorry for whatever woman—or man, as far as she knew—would tie themselves to him. They sure were in for a lifetime of misery. Aside from the smirk he gave her on the first day, she had yet to see him smile. His face was always frozen in a light scowl, and today was no exception. </p><p>The elevator dinged, and Aelin readied herself to leave. They had developed a sort of routine since that first disastrous day: he would let Aelin exit the elevator first, and he would exit a couple of seconds after so they didn’t have to walk side by side to their neighboring classrooms. Aelin had no qualms about the system they had in place; the less she had to interact with Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Brooding, the better.</p><p>She usually unlocked her classroom well before he even entered the hallway, but today was different. She couldn’t find the keys to unlock her door under the seemingly endless piles of folders and lesson plans in her tote bag. Unfortunately for her, she was still searching for her keys when the asshole next door unlocked his classroom door and stepped inside. He didn’t look at her. She didn’t spare him a glance. As per usual. </p><p>Aelin watched the door close behind him and wished she hadn’t. On the door, there was a poster that read:</p><p>
  <em> Mr. Whitethorn</em>
</p><p>
  <em>AP World History &amp; AP Latin</em>
</p><p>Gods, he taught not one, but <em> two </em> AP classes. Her hatred for the pretentious asshole just increased tenfold. And his name? Mr. Whitethorn? Who does he think he is? <em> White-Thorn </em> . Sheesh. <em> ‘Compound names are only cool in fantasy novels, asshole,’ </em>she thought bitterly.</p><p>Aelin finally found her keys and went inside her classroom. She plopped down at her desk and prayed that today would go by fast. She wanted—no, <em> needed— </em>this week to be over. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Wednesday, August 21st, 6:51am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aelin was running late today. She had just walked down the four flights of stairs in her apartment complex when she realized that she had left the keys to her classroom on her kitchen table. Climbing the stairs back up and then down again in her pumps was no easy task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the bright side, she wouldn’t have to ride the elevator with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Whitethorn </span>
  </em>
  <span>today. Thank the Gods for small mercies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn’t spoken a single word to each other, despite sharing an elevator every morning—well, every morning except today. She walked onto the elevator, pressed her floor number, and waited for the doors to close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold the elevator!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin looked to see who had called her, and sure enough it was none other than Mr. Whitethorn himself. She saw him running down the hall, looking less winded than he had any right to be, crossing the courtyard towards the elevator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw his face light up as she walked over to the elevator’s control panel. He thought she was going to hold the door for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How cute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pressed the “door close” button and watched as the hope faded slowly from his features. She waved to him as the elevator doors slowly started to close, a sarcastic grin stretched across her face. The last she saw of Mr. Whitethorn before the doors shut was him realizing his defeat, freezing where he stood, and staring daggers at her. He was standing not even fifteen feet from the elevator. It would have been no inconvenience at all to hold the door for another five seconds. She was already later than she would’ve liked anyways...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Aelin was still so </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> bitter about him not apologizing.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Friday, August 23rd, 6:43am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thursday’s elevator ride was… awkward to say the least. After Aelin closed the elevator doors on Mr. Whitethorn, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> expecting an apology, if she was being totally honest. Maybe the mutual silence they shared made him think that she was okay with what happened? That he didn’t need to apologize? She wasn’t going to outright ask him for an apology, but she would try to push him in the right direction. She didn’t leave him hanging in the courtyard because she was petty. No sir. Aelin did it because she thought he needed a little bit of </span>
  <em>
    <span>motivation </span>
  </em>
  <span>to apologize. Yeah, that’s it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, that’s what she keeps telling herself at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anyways, yesterday’s elevator ride was weirdly tense for some reason. They usually offered a smile to each other, at the very least acknowledging the others existence. But yesterday, Mr. Whitethorn simply walked onto the elevator with his nose down in his phone, not even sparing her a glance. Aelin was pretty sure he didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span> until he got off the elevator. He also broke their routine and zoomed off of the elevator, not allowing her to leave first like they had established. Aelin wasn’t sure who put the stick up his ass, but it wasn’t her. If he was bitter about her not holding the elevator for him, well he could grow the fuck up. There was no reason a grown ass man had to resort to childish games. And maybe if he had just apologized for making her trip and spill her coffee like a normal, competent human being, she wouldn’t have to encourage him using less than ideal methods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, when Mr. Whitethorn entered the elevator, he was more tense than yesterday. Aelin wasn’t even sure that was possible, yet he exceeded her expectations once again. The second the elevator doors came together, he turned to face her and said bluntly:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the fuck is you problem?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh no. He did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> just say that to her. If there was one </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong </span>
  </em>
  <span>thing to say to Aelin Galathynius, it was that. He continued, thinking she wasn’t going to respond, “Why would you close the elevator doors on me? You clearly saw me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin prided herself on being professional; she had a vice grip on her emotions and never let them get the better of her. No matter what slurs, what insults, what depraved things people have said to her face, she always kept a level head. She was much more a person of action than a person of words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But something about Mr. Whitethorn got </span>
  <em>
    <span>under her skin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>problem? You don’t get to say anything, you raging </span>
  <em>
    <span>man-child</span>
  </em>
  <span>. In what world is it okay to trip someone and not apologize? Not even that, the fact that you were laughing at me like some low-life high school bully was beyond unprofessional. Since the very first day, I have had a very low bar set for you </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mr. Whitethorn, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and somehow you continually manage to lower that bar even further. Wrap your last two pathetic brain cells around this: no matter how much teaching experience you have, no matter what pretentious AP classes you may teach, no matter how high and mighty you think you are, you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no right</span>
  </em>
  <span> to laugh and belittle someone like a fucking middle schooler for </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>mistake and not have the common human decency apologize. Think long and hard about what I’ve said, because clearly you lack any semblance of common sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right as she finished her rant, the elevator doors opened. She hauled ass off of the elevator — not because she was avoiding conflict, but because if he had any rebuttal, any other words besides “I’m sorry” to say to her, she didn’t want to hear them. If this was a cartoon, Aelin was sure she would be red in the face and have smoke pouring out of her ears. She was pretty damn close to that anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t try chasing after her. At least he had enough common sense for that.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Monday, August 26th, 6:57am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aelin thought a lot about what happened with Mr. Whitethorn over the weekend. She wasn’t a particularly self-reflective kind of person, but even she knew that she had stepped a little over the line with how she handled things on Friday. Was closing the elevator doors on him petty… she could grudgingly admit that </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was. She shouldn’t have blown up on him like that in the elevator too; he was still in the wrong, but that didn’t give her an excuse to scold him like he was a child. Even though she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>called him a man-child, but that’s beside the point. Aelin had decided that she would apologize.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he apologized first, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr. Whitethorn wasn’t on the elevator today, which made her promise a little difficult to uphold. She was planning on waiting until tomorrow — that was, until there was a knock on her classroom door. She spit out the gum she was chewing in the trash by her desk and walked over to the door. When she opened it, to her surprise, standing outside was Mr. Whitethorn. He had two Starbucks coffee cups in his hand, one of which was an iced macchiato; he handed that one to her. He took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry. I know I reacted poorly on the first day of school. I should have apologized then, but I hope you accept my apology now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He actually apologized. It seems that he did some self-reflecting over the weekend too. She took the coffee from his hand and smiled. She looked on the order label and she saw:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Order 2 of 2 </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rowan</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Rowan. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That must be Mr. Whitethorn’s first name. Despite his apology, they still had yet to formally introduce themselves. Aelin decided to bridge that gap. “Since we haven’t formally introduced ourselves, my name is Aelin Galathynius. I’m happy to see that we can move forward from what has happened over the past two weeks.” Her response was genuine. She has heard the chatter amongst her students about how Mr. Whitethorn was an “amazing teacher,” and considering that it came from high school students, that was very high praise. “Rowan Whitethorn,” he responded with a smirk. She smiled at him again, took a sip of her coffee, and walked back over to her desk. Assuming their conversation was over, she sat down to continue grading her student’s essays.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s it? I don’t get an apology in return?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin’s back became ramrod straight. She slowly sat up from her chair, refusing to make eye contact with the asshole standing in the doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would not let her emotions get the best of her. She would not let her emotions get the best of her. She would not let her emotions get—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s what this is then? You giving me a half-assed apology that’s supposed to guilt trip me into apologizing to you? I was going to apologize to you tomorrow, I realize what I did crossed a line. But you do not deserve an apology if you only tried to manipulate me with yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finally made eye contact with him. Never breaking said eye contact, she took the lid off of her cup and poured out all of the coffee into the trash can next to her feet. She stormed over to him and shoved the empty cup into his hand, causing him to stumble back a few steps. “You can take your half-assed apologies somewhere else. I hope you choke on them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slammed her classroom door in his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin turned around and leaned her back against the door, letting her head hang in her hands. She really wished she had an iced macchiato right about now.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Tuesday, August 27th, 6:43am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Rowan wasn’t there when she rode the elevator today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or the next day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or the next day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or the next day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or the next week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or the week after that.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Monday, September 16th, 6:43am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As she stepped onto the empty elevator and watched the doors come together, Aelin had a realization — she missed Rowan. And she wasn’t exactly sure why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew absolutely nothing about him. When they had ridden the elevator together, they sure weren’t having friendly conversation. The only things she knew about him were the classes he taught and that he was either married or engaged, hence the ring; but she wasn’t even sure about that. It’s not like he had ever talked to her about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin had deduced that she didn’t miss </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rowan Whitethorn </span>
  </em>
  <span>per say — she missed the </span>
  <em>
    <span>idea </span>
  </em>
  <span>of him. Someone who unquestionably loved their job as much as she did. Someone who actually cared about their students. Someone who didn’t take a teaching job just because they got the summers off. Even though she didn’t know anything about Mr. Whitethorn, Aelin knew he, like her, was that “someone.” There was no way he would go to his classroom half an hour before school started — with no pay — unless he was genuinely invested in not only his job, but the futures and success of his students. She heard the student’s gossip; knew that he cared about them. Aelin knew that people like them were close to none, not just at Doranelle High, but at every school across the globe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s one thing she was certain of — not a single person on earth became a teacher for the </span>
  <em>
    <span>pay</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking down the halls, it hit Aelin that It had been almost three weeks since her daily elevator rides with Mr. Whitethorn had stopped. She had decided today was the day she would set her pride aside and </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> apologize to him. He deserved that at least. Their little feud had gone on too long. Aelin recognized that she had been treating him like shit, and all because of some spilt coffee. She accepted that she was in the wrong, and she was going to be an adult and face her problems head on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin stood outside Rowan’s classroom door and saw him typing away at his computer through the window. Just because they weren’t riding the elevator at the same time didn’t mean he had stopped coming early — now he came </span>
  <em>
    <span>earlier. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And from the looks of it, he had settled in, meaning he’d already been here for a while. He was wearing a navy-blue and white checkered button-up rolled to his forearms. He was so focused on whatever he was working on that he didn’t hear her knock on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or he chose to ignore her. Aelin liked to believe otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knocked again, and this time he looked up at her through the window. She gave him a shy smile, motioning for him to open the door for her. He offered her a smirk in return, stood up, and sauntered over to the door. He reached for the door handle then paused. His piercing pine-green gaze met hers, and a full blown grin stretched across his face. He waved at her mockingly through the window, then pulled on the cord Aelin knew was on the back of the door. She watched as the blinds fell, covering the window and obscuring him from her view.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Son of a bitch.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Tuesday, September 17th, 6:00am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aelin was fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Waking up fourth-five minutes early had thrown off her whole schedule. It was worth it though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything was going to plan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Rowan shut her out yesterday, Aelin knew that confronting him would be no easy task. She had to resort to another method: catching him by surprise. The only issue was that Aelin wasn’t sure what time he came to school now that he wasn’t on the elevator with her at 6:43am. But she knew he now got there before her, so she got to the school as soon as it opened; she didn’t want to miss him. Now she had to wait. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sat on the stairs near the elevator, waiting for the sound of someone approaching. She checked her phone. 6:24am</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Just as she set her phone in her lap, she heard soft footfalls coming her way. Aelin peered over her shoulder and saw none other than Rowan Whitethorn crossing the courtyard. She began phase two of her plan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elevator was completely obscured from Rowan’s view because of the stairwell, so she was able to sneak into the elevator without his notice. She stood with her back to the empty wall next to the doors so that when he came in, he wouldn’t see her until it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything went as planned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked onto the elevator, turned around to face the front, and saw as she pressed the “door close” button, and the doors slammed shut. He was trapped. She turned to look at him; he looked at her with a mixture of mostly confusion and a slight bit of awe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you just ambush me in the elevator?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grinned. “You keep avoiding me. This was the only way I could force you to listen to what I have to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without turning around, Aelin held down the “door close” button, trapping them inside. He wasn’t getting off this elevator until she had said what she needed to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here goes nothing. “I’m not that great with apologies, but I’m really gonna try here. Look I’m sorry for everything. I’ve treated you like shit all because you accidentally tripped me and soured my first-day-of-school mood. I was butt-hurt because you didn’t apologize, and the way I have been acting has been completely unprofessional. I’m sorry for the way I have been acting, and I really want to move forward from this. I’ve heard what the kids say about you, and how you’re amazing or whatever, and It’s nice to see someone who genuinely loves teaching. People like that are hard to come by these days. Why else would we get up at the ass crack of dawn and work unpaid unless we truly loved it? I’m getting off track, but anyways I really am sorry for how I’ve been treating you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin was usually good at reading people, but she couldn’t identify a single emotion flashing across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly enough, Rowan decided to respond. “I appreciate that. Thank you for apologizing, even though you’re not the only person to blame. I haven’t exactly been warm and welcoming either. My apology was genuine the other day, but I could easily see why it might not have come across that way. I’m sorry for laughing at you that first day of school. Every scolding you’ve given me was well deserved; I was just shocked to say the least. I knew who you were the second you walked onto the elevator. Aelin Galathynius — the newbie teacher who was making waves in the teaching community already, even from a continent away. It’s safe to say I was a little intimidated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was intimidated by </span>
  <em>
    <span>her? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Good to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued, “once the </span>
  <em>
    <span>incident </span>
  </em>
  <span>happened, I didn’t know what to think. It was pretty alarming to see you so disheveled — that’s why I couldn’t help but laugh. In my head, you were always so put together, but seeing you rage was enough to remind me that even a prodigy is human. You have been the exact opposite of who I thought you would be, and I’m sorry for making assumptions about you beforehand. Let's start over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held out his hand, “My name is Rowan Whitethorn, and I teach AP Latin and AP World History.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin reached out her hand to shake his. “Aelin Galathynius. I teach AP Literature.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled at him. He smiled back. Aelin was thinking of a lot of things right now, but the one thought that came to the forefront of her mind was that she would love to see Mr. Whitethorn smile like that more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now can you let us off of this elevator? My lessons won’t plan themselves,” Rowan broke the silence with a grin, voice full of sarcasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aelin released the button she was holding, and the doors slid open. She walked out first and he followed after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked to their classrooms side by side. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>fun fact I have an irrational fear of elevators because my older sister forced me to watch a scary movie where some people were trapped in an elevator and one of them was the devil or something like that. I was 8. I’ve been traumatized ever since lol. </p><p>N e ways, if you guys have any suggestions as to what you wanna see happen in this fic, let me know! I have the most bare-bones outline aka I have almost no idea where I want this fic to go. LMK if you have anything!</p><p>THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING YOU ARE AMAZING EVERY SINGLE COMMENT WARMS MY WHOLE MF HEART ❤️</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Leave comments and kudos if you want :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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